Page 42 of Wicche Hunt

“You punched me in the truck.”

“Only because you were pissing me off.”

He pinned me with a glare. “Arwyn.”

I absolutely agreed with him, and I was ashamed of the threatening and the hitting, but I also really wanted to smack him for not letting me help. “Sorry,” I said in a voice that clearly indicated I was not at all sorry.

“It can’t always be your way. I’m a pretty easygoing guy, but that doesn’t mean you can order me around.” He rested his hands on my thighs. “Tell me you understand that, Arwyn, or this ends right here. I’m not your lap dog.”

My arms dropped and I squeezed his hands. “I don’t want a lap dog. I just don’t want you to die.” My eyes filled with sudden tears. Looking up, I blinked rapidly. “You’ve got a secret weapon in your pocket. Why won’t you use me?”

He patted his chest again. “Come down here and we’ll discuss it.”

“No.” I wasn’t letting him lull me into agreeing with his stupid scheme.

“So stubborn,” he muttered, his thumbs brushing back and forth over my inner thighs. “Okay, Arwyn. Are you listening?”

I locked eyes with him and he sighed, no doubt seeing the hurt in mine.

“It has to be a clean fight.”

When I opened my mouth to argue it would never be a clean fight with Logan involved, he held up a finger.

“There can be no question who the stronger wolf is. We don’t recognize the authority of wicches, vampires, fae, humans—anyone—over us. If your family comes to interfere in the fight, it will never be viewed as a valid challenge and I won’t be seen as the rightful Alpha. Daniel and Kenji have no place in the pack at present. They’d be attacked the moment they set foot on pack land.

“If I am to ascend to Alpha, to whip this pack into shape, I can’t plot and bribe. The only way I earn their respect and loyalty is through honor and strength. I won’t cheat for the greater good. I can’t control what others do, only what I do. And I don’t cheat.”

Stupid, noble wolf was going to get himself killed. “So I just sit back and wait to be informed youleft town,”I air quoted. “Is that it?”

He squeezed my thighs. “A little more faith in me would be nice, but essentially yes.”

“Well, I have to say, I hate everything about that. Except the righteous anger. That was kind of hot.”

His gaze softened as he gripped my hips and dragged me forward, so I was perched on the bulge in his pants. “Only kind of?” The thumb that had been caressing my inner thigh slipped into my panties, and then slid up, down, and around. Shuddering, I tilted back and braced myself on his legs. I felt a claw at my waist and then my panties were gone, and he had a finger in me while his thumb continued its relentless pursuit of my orgasm.

It didn’t take long and then—I don’t even know how he moved me so quickly—he’d slid down on the bed, my knees on either side of his shoulders while he gripped my hips, keeping me in place and wrecking me with his mouth. I might have moaned. There was undoubtedly shouting. It’s possible I left my body.

Still quivering, I was tossed back on the bed while he peeled my thermal and bra off. I reached for his shirt, still not believing this was happening. A man I cared deeply about—with a ridiculously hot body—was able to touch me. But it wasn’t even about that. I mean, yes, it was, but mostly it was about my being able to touch him, to run my hands all over him, and not experience pain or horror or fear. He was a gift I would never not be grateful for.

Kneeling between my legs, he lifted my knees. His gaze drifted over every inch of me before his lips followed the same path.

“So beautiful,” he murmured between kisses.

Desperate, mindless, I wrapped my legs around, him, tilting up, needing him.

“Soon.” His tongue swirled around my breasts. While his mouth ravaged one, his hand plucked and rolled the other. Head thrown back, hands kneading his shoulders, I couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t feel any more. And then I did.

He slid in, and we both groaned. I had a moment of panic. “Condom?”

“Yes.” And then he pulled back, slammed home, and all thought was gone.

The orgasm shattered me, but he wasn’t done. He slid out, flipped my liquid body over, lifted my hips and slid back in. One hand at my waist, keeping me in place, the other at my breast, he gave me one more life-altering orgasm before finishing with me.

Breathing heavy, still joined, he wrapped an arm around my waist and repositioned us so I was once again the little spoon. Keeping one arm under me, around my middle, he rested the other on my breast, kissing my shoulder.

“I may never walk again.” My heart was still hammering in my chest.

“It’s overrated.”

---